drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart

Alexa was an absolute joy to work with and I love what she did with both Stiles and Derek. She captured what I was trying to portray with words perfectly. She's currently taking commissions, so if you're interested in getting some work done, I highly recommend her.

I'm only getting around to posting this now as because life the past few weeks has been incredibly insane (work, kids, my sister's wedding shower, TUMBLR HAS SUCKED MY WILL TO DO ANYTHING ELSE BUT LOOK AT PRETTY, PRETTY PICTURES OF DYLAN O'BRIEN AND TYLER HOECHLIN)

It's just so awesome and shiny and I'm completely in love with it.

excerpt:

Stiles throws back his head and laughs because the irony of Derek being mad at him is just priceless. Like a fucking MasterCard commercial.

“Damn it, Stiles,” Derek grabs his upper arms and pulls him to his feet. He shakes Stiles roughly, the feel of Derek’s claws against his skin sobering his laughter instantly. Stiles can feel his heart pick up, pulse thundering in his ears like thunder.

“I tried to tell you ten different times and every time I opened my mouth you put something in it. Want a recap? Let's see. There was your tongue and your fingers a few times, or hey, my personal favorite at least five of the times I tried, your cock. Do you want me to tick them off on my fingers for you? Because I remember each one.”

Derek ducks his head, breathing heavy, his claws retracting, his thumbs ghosting over his skin. Stiles tries and fails not to shiver.

“There’s only so many times I can try before I get it. You don’t want to talk to me and that’s fine. Whatever. We’ve never been nothing else but fuck buddies, right?” Stiles is such a lying liar who lies and knows Derek can tell but he doesn’t care. If Derek chooses to ignore the lies, well then, he’s only got to be here until tomorrow afternoon. Most of his stuff is already packed in Rubbermaid containers and sitting by the front door. Just waiting for his Dad to sleep off his night shift and then they’ll be on their way south.

“Just what do you want from me?” Derek asks, voice rough, looking down at the carpet.